Broken and Slowly Bleeding Red
by ch3rryb3rry101
Summary: Lovino has run away from an abusive home, were he learned the wrong definition of love. Finding his way through the streets of Paris he comes across café were he meets Francis Bonnefoy, someone who is willing to help fix the broken.
1. Stand in the Rain

**Broken and Slowly Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 1: Stand in the Rain**

A/N: Hello! So here's a new story with a more unconventional pairing. Framano! Frumano! France x Romano! Roses x Tomatoes! It's actually my favorite France pairing after FrUK, and my favorite Romano pairing. Shh.

_Lovino has run away from an abusive home, were he learned the wrong definition of love. Finding his way through the streets of Paris he comes across café were he meets Francis Bonnefoy, someone who is willing to help fix the broken._

* * *

The dark nights were always chilly. It's what he probably hated most about this city; besides for the rude, annoying, perverted people of course. And the food, nothing could ever replace a heaping plate of pasta, or delicious warm slice of pizza. But at least here, there was no one to hurt him.

Quietly, like a mouse, Lovino Vargas stumbled through the streets of Paris. He had no where to go, so all he could do was wander around until he found a secluded alley or somewhere he could nestle for the night. Then in the morning, he'd scrounge for food, avoid the wary stares, and repeat the night before.

He liked this better though. No one beat him here. No one touched him. No one left big purple bruises and nasty scars over his body. No one pulled his hair, left him in a basement to rot, only to visit him to let out there frustration on him, then return upstairs as if they were god himself. There was no one to treat him like was nothing, while his little brother was treated like a prince. Here no one noticed him anyways.

Everything was fine, until it started raining. The Italian glanced up at the sky, scowling. He quietly cursed it, trudging ahead in the rain with his shirt pulled over his head. Cold, wet drops of water hit his skin like tiny pinpricks, over and over and over again. He let out a frustrated sigh trying to find shelter before he was drenched. He looked all up and down the road, and spotted a small, welcoming looking bistro nestled between a few other stores.

He quickly walked over, and opened the door. Once inside he headed for the far back, seating himself in a seat faced away from everyone else. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he felt him relax a bit. The restaurant was warm, and cozy. The sweet smells drifting from the kitchen, made it comparable to heaven. It was comforting.

A few minutes after he had seated himself, a pretty waitress with long brown hair tied up in red ribbons, and hazel eyes walked up to his table. "Bonjour." She said in the sweetest of voices, smiling at him nervously. Lovino guessed this was probably her first day, and he smiled sweetly back at her.

"Ciao bella." He said in his smoothest of voices.

The girl's cheeks heated up, averting her eyes to the ground. "Italian?"

"Si." He brought his arm onto the table, resting his cheek in his hand.

"Ah…well." She cleared her throat and looked back up at him. "Here's our menu."

The Italian's face immediately darkened when he was handed the menu. He shoved it back in her hands, and looked away. "I don't want to order anything."

"What? But why else are y—"

"I said I don't want anything!" He snapped, glaring at her. The girl jumped and scurried away back to the kitchen, her face kept towards the ground.

Lovino groaned, and let his head fall against the table with a soft thud. He winced slightly, but ignored it. It's not like he didn't want to eat whatever they were brewing in that kitchen of theirs, but he didn't have any sort of money to pay them with. The small pain in his stomach that never seemed to go away reminded him of that.

A couple of hours went by, and it was closing time for the bistro. By that time, the Italian had fallen into a light sleep. The soft clank of a bowl hitting the table woke him up. He glanced up, and saw a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. He laid his back down, mumbling into the table. "I don't have any money."

"Perhaps not, but I wasn't asking." A melodic voice came from his side. He cocked his head to the side, looking up at the speaker.

It was a smiling man, with golden hair tied up in the back, piercing blue eyes the color of the sky, and stubble along his chin. He had this air to him that made him seem so appealing. But there many people who seem appealing at first and Lovino had to learn the hard way that they weren't as nice as they seemed.

"I didn't ask for this. I don't want your soup, and I don't want your fucking charity." Lovino growled, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"I do not care. Again, I didn't ask. I won't let you leave until you eat. I own this restaurant. I can afford letting you have a small bowl of soup."

A small snarl came from the Italian's lips, not sure if this man could be trusted. A spoon was shoved into his hands, and he looked at the bowl of soup with disdain.

"I'm not hungry." He finally said, setting the spoon on the table, and pushing the bowl away from him. Just then, a low growl bubbled up from his stomach, his face turning a deep scarlet. In reality, all he had been eating for the past few days were pieces of bread, and things he found being thrown out. Shamefully, he looked away, covering his stomach with his hands.

"I think your stomach is disagreeing with you, non?" The Frenchman chuckled. The bowl was pushed back in front of him

Lovino scowled, his face becoming even redder. "Whatever." He muttered quietly.

A hand ruffled his dark hair. "We'll be cleaning up in the back."

Pouting, the Italian waited for the man to walk away. He took one last glance behind him, and then turned his attention to the bowl. The soup was gone within minutes. He took once last long drink of the liquid from the soup, and then set the bowl back down with a satisfied sigh. When he looked up the strange blonde man was sitting back in front of him, looking at him with those sparkling cerulean eyes.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" He said quietly, looking away.

"I thought it was quiet obvious that I was looking at you."

Lovino huffed, and turned his eyes to the Frenchman. "What do you want? I told you I have no money."

"I don't want money. I want you to tell me something."

Feeling anxious, the Italian shifted in his seat. "S-so…what do you want to know?"

"What are you running away from?"

Lovino's eyes widened, staring at the other man. How had he known? He had come here to get away from his nightmares, but it seemed they had followed him like dark ominous shadows.

"T-The hell?" Bewildered, he got up shakily from the table and headed out the door. He ignored the yells coming from the table wait. He ignored it all but the sound of his heart beating on the concrete as he ran. He didn't stop until he was far from the bistro, and even then he kept running until his lungs felt like they were going to explode. Leaning against a concrete wall, he lowered himself into a crouch, and buried his face between his knees. His breathing was harsh, and his brain felt as if a thousand hammers were hitting his head simultaneously.

"G-get out of my head." He whispered in an unsteady voice, his body trembling. "Leave me alone!" He shut his eyes tightly, burning under the darkness of his eyelids. Thin drops of salt water pushed pass his lashes, and started to trail down his cheeks. His whole body convulsed as he burst into loud sobs.

* * *

So that's the short first chapter of Framano story. ;D I'm working on my other stories, and I also have another idea for more Framano yum. And unlike some, this will end in Framano. :DD


	2. Numb Until You Came Along

**Broken and Slowly Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 2: Numb Until You Came Along**

**Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own France, Romano, Canada or Hetalia yet**

_Lovino nodded, he definitely did remember unfortunately. The way he had run off the night before was so embarrassing. His olive skin slightly reddened around his cheeks simply thinking about it._

* * *

Lovino cried himself to sleep the night before. He managed to sleep for a good amount of time before waking up in the alley he had stumbled into. His tired, red, puffy amber eyes, surveyed his location quickly. It was a dirtier, more rugged part of town that was for sure. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, and let out a long yawn. Considering, he felt fine until flashbacks from the day before popped up into his mind, the kind blonde man that knew a little too much, and that soup. The Frenchman made really good soup. The very thought of it made the Italian's stomach grumble. That or the fact he had slept through breakfast made his stomach complain.

Cautiously, he glanced around to make sure there was no one around, and walked quickly out of the alley onto the sidewalk. He kept his head down, again trying to keep from being noticed.

He soon found himself a little bench, and sat down on the rough wooden surface. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than the cold concrete he slept on the night before. Taking a deep breath, he sat back in the seat, and tilted his head up, looking up at the sky. The white, cotton candy like clouds, morphed into a variety of shapes, reminding him of the few good times back home.

_Lovino was only ten as he glanced up at the swirling mess of blue and white. His younger brother Feliciano laid next to him, happily, a bright grin on his face. "Lovino! That cloud looks like a big plate of pasta!" The younger of the two chirped, his small hand extending out to the sky, pointing at a white fluffy cloud._

_The older Italian glanced over at his brother, scowling. "It does not, you're such an idiot." He huffed. He glanced up at the cloud his brother pointed out, and gently bit his bottom lip, fighting back a smile. It did look like a plate of pasta. "Well, I guess it does a little. But that's only if you really look!"_

_Feliciano let out a happy little noise, moving closer to his brother. "I told you fratello!" He giggled happily._

Lovino was suddenly pushed from his wandering memories by the feeling of something warm rubbing against his leg. "The hell?" He almost jumped, glancing down at his legs to see a white furry ball of fluff, wiggling, and looking up at him. The ball of fluff barked, wagging its little tail. Cautiously, Lovino reached down and picked up the dog, and set it into his lap. "Ciao little one." He muttered as the dog, wiggled happily in his lap, then jumped up letting its long slobbery tongue lap his cheek.

"O-Oi!" He giggled lightly, trying to push it back down.

In a matter of seconds, footsteps came running down the sidewalk, and stopped abruptly in front of Lovino. "M-maple! I'm so sorry! Kumarjirou, down!"

Glancing up, Lovino almost gasped in shock. The person in front of him looked almost identical to the man he met the day before. He had the same golden hair, but his eyes were had a slight tint of lavender to them, instead of being a pure blue. Lovino stood up, and handed the dog over, watching the other closely.

"It's fine." He said simply crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides for the fact he got slobber all over my fucking face."

The blonde winced, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about tha-…. Hey! Wait a second! You're the one that came into papa's café restaurant yesterday!"

Instantly paling, Lovino took a cautious step back. "W-What? That wasn't me. You must be confused." He quickly did a once over of him, trying to place the blonde's face in the restaurant.

"But it was you. I was in the back helping with the cooking, but I know it was you. Papa went looking for you all night yesterday. He was really worried. You should come back for lunch; it'll be on the house."

Lovino froze for a second, staring at the other's smile. He didn't realize he was shaking until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and his amber eyes met with soft lavender. He glanced down at the hand, and then back up into the face, slowly nodding.

The walk to the bistro was a silent one, and was harder with every step he took forward. Matthew, who he had found out, was the young blonde's name was nice enough, but you could never be too sure. Supposedly, Matthew was the owner of the bistro's much younger cousin, who he had taken in when Matthew's parents died a while back. Lovino suspected that it had become more of a parent type relationship as the years went by, especially since Matthew kept strangely calling him Papa. That or the French were even weirder than Lovino thought.

"By the way, in case you were wondering. I'm actually Canadian. I was born in Canada, but I had to move here when I came to live with Francis."

That explained it. No one even knew where Canada was. They were all probably a bunch of weirdo's hanging out with polar bears all day, and eating maple syrup of each other's hockey sticks. Lovino snorted at the thought. Creeps.

After a lot more walking then Lovino would have liked, they arrived in front of the bistro. It still looked just as friendly and welcoming as it did the day before, compared to all the other places here in France.

"Well come on in. Francis doesn't usually bite. " Matthew smiled, giving him a sideways glance, and pulled him inside. "Papa!" The Canadian exclaimed, "I found someone."

The older blonde Lovino had remembered from last night suddenly appeared from the kitchen, drying his hands off on a towel. His bright, cerulean eyes met with Lovino's, and he instantly broke into a grin. With his long stride, it only took him a matter of steps to meet with the Italian. When he did, he immediately embraced him in a hug, kissing his cheek, and making Lovino squirm.

"Can you not touch me bastard?" Lovino said, pushing himself out of the Frenchman's arms. He shivered slightly, glancing to the side as the other man gave him a weird look.

"Ah, yes. My apologies, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable..." He paused, "I don't think I've gotten your name, have I?"

Shifting uncomfortably in place, Lovino glanced away. "It's…. Romano." He lied, simply coming up with a name on spot. He didn't feel comfortable giving him his real name. It was the same as bearing all his other secrets for him to see.

"Romano." The Frenchman repeated, the name slipping silkily off his tongue. "It's nice to actually talk without someone running off, oui? My name is Francis Bonnefoy. As you might remember, but probably don't want to considering what happened yesterday, I am the owner of this lovely petite restaurant."

Lovino nodded, he definitely did remember unfortunately. The way he had run off the night before was so embarrassing. His olive skin slightly reddened around his cheeks simply thinking about it.

"S-Si…I remember." Lovino looked to the side shyly, not knowing what else to say. He bit his bottom lip, and stood there awkwardly.

Matthew glanced between them, and started backing up. "I'll get you something to eat Romano."

Looking up quickly, Lovino shook his head. "No! I mean…. No I don't want anything." He sighed, scowling. "Stop giving me fucking free food. I don't want anyone's pity, and I don't want to be like some abandon kitten you feel sorry for.

Cutting in, Francis said, "Well then, don't be a kitten. Why don't you work for me then? Employees get free food, and board as well." He winked.

Lovino stared at him. If he said no, he'd be back out on the streets. If he said yes, he just might find himself in deeper trouble.

* * *

SOOOOOOOO? Yeah, this chapter sucked, however it will be better now that we're getting somewhere.


	3. Breakeven

**Broken and Slowly Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 3: Breakeven**

**A/N: I just like to thank all those who have reviewed.**

**MsAtrabilious- I have to agree with you. And that's why I wanted to write this, I wanted something where they will actually get a chance to become close.**

**SpicyItalianRomano-I like it too! xD**

**Framanoistheshit-I WILL GIVE YOU MORE TWIN!  
1silentmouse- Omg, I didn't even think of calling it that until you said that. ROMANCE IS THE NEW PAIRING NAME EVERYONE MUST USE FOR THEM.**

**The Only Sane One- Your wish is my command.**

**Heaven'sKnight15- asfjhkfs thank you dearie! And I haaaave.**

**Raven Darknyte- I love you. B| No really. Let's make Framano babies together. Also yeah, grammar is not my strongest point when I write. :/ Iiiiif you like Framano so much, I made a little video for them on YouTube. You just look up Dirty Laundry France x Romano. 3**

**PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING! I get excited when I see reviews pop up in my email. :**

Translation: (Done by a translation app, so it might not be totally correct.)

Non lasciare che lui mi ha fatto male- Don't let him hurt me.

_He still felt uneasy about the whole thing, but he decided it was better than being outside in the rain, with no food, and no one who actually cared enough to help him. Plus, deep down, he had a feeling he could trust this man_

Lovino sat quietly in the passenger seat of his new boss' car, looking out the window, a scowl pressed onto his face. He watched as the scenery flew past him, taking note of little things. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if agreeing to working and living with Francis was a good idea. He hardly knew the man, and for all he knew he could have some evil agenda behind his kind smile. Taking a quick glance at the driving Frenchman, he tried to read him, but all he could focus on was his bright, blue eyes….

"How much longer do we have?" Lovino finally asked frowning. "I mean damn….you drive like a fucking old lady. Where I'm from, even the older donnas drive faster than this. At this rate we'll never get there." He muttered, his eyes averting back to the glass window.

A soft chuckled bubbled from the Frenchman's lips, glancing at the Italian. "Patience Romano, we will arrive in due time."

Minutes later they arrived at a huge mansion like house on a hill. Lovino's jaw dropped when he saw the place he would be staying at. The house was huge, not to mention beautiful. He glanced at blonde, then back at the house, then back at the other man again. His amber eyes opened wide in disbelief.

"How the fuck do you afford this with your tiny restaurant?" He questioned, turning towards him and narrowing his eyes.

Francis sighed, pulling up to the house. "Ah Romano, mon cher…. Let's just leave it at…my family has quite a bit of money." He stopped the car, and got out, urging the other to follow him.

Hesitantly, Lovino walked up to the front door. He suddenly had a very uneasy feeling rack his nerves. What if he walked in here and this guy did something to him? He could just be pretending to be all nice, and actually be planning on hurting him, or worse. And it was strange how he knew that he was running, how would he know that? He might have been friends with _him, _and might be leading him right back to _those _arms. He shuddered thinking about it. He glanced at the Frenchman as he jingled the door knob, and unlocked the door. The door was held open for him, by the seemingly gracious man, a bright smile on his face. Lovino hesitated, looking him over unsurely, but finally stepped inside nervously.

"Shit…" Lovino muttered looking around the Frenchman's home. He thought the outside was magnificent, but the inside. The outside couldn't even compare to how beautiful it looked on the inside of the home. It was nothing like he had seen before. There were paintings along the wall, and the furniture was classic with a modern spin. However, it still held an air of elegance as well. "Do you really live here?"

The Frenchman nodded, a small smile painted on his face. "Oui, and now so do you." He took the Italian by the hand, gently rubbing his thumb across his skin. Lovino looked down at their hands, reddening tremendously. Snatching his hand away, he cleared his throat, and took a few steps away from him. "So are you going to show me where my room is or not?" He pouted, nervously rubbing the side of his arm. "I don't have all day you know."

"Oh." Francis blinked, "Of course. Your room is on the opposite side of my own room; I thought you'd like some privacy, oui?" He started to walk up the high winding stairs as he talked.

"Ah… s-si." The young Italian said in quiet relief. He was led down a long hall, and then stopped after the third door. The door was pushed open, and then Lovino was pushed inside. He gulped when he saw the room. Why was everything here so stunning? He couldn't believe that the room would be his. He had never had anything this nice before.

He started walking around the room, forgetting momentarily that he wasn't alone. Walking past the dressers, he trailed his fingers over the wood, and then rushed over to the bed flopping on top of it. Immediately, it started sucking him into its comfort, bringing a slight smile to his face.

"I'm taking you like it?"

Lovino immediately sat up, looking over to the side, thoroughly embarrassed by his own actions. "I guess it'll do." He muttered, reddening slightly. Pushing himself to his feet, he walked back to the door with his arms crossed, and looked up at the Frenchman. "Does this room have a lock?" He looked around Francis trying to see if the door had one or not. He didn't want to take any chances of random people sneaking in at night.

Francis gave him a strange looked, but nodded. He reached behind him and jingled the knob. "Yes, it has a lock." He smiled reassuringly at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Lovino instantly flinched, a natural reaction for him now whenever people touched him. He brushed the elder's man hand off, and stepped back.

"Good. I… thank you." Looking down at his worn out shoes, he blushed lightly. He still felt uneasy about the whole thing, but he decided it was better than being outside in the rain, with no food, and no one who actually cared enough to help him. Plus, deep down, he had a feeling he could trust this man. Sure, he was still going to be cautious, but he could feel it. He could tell that something was different about him.

Another small smile drew its way around the Frenchman's face. "It really is no problem. You will be working for me, so it is not like you are getting anything for free." With those few words, he took a few steps back at the door, and started to close it. "Oh, and I would take a shower if I was you. No offense cher, but I can tell you haven't cleaned up for quite some time. I wouldn't want you scaring away my customers." He winked playfully. "The bathroom is right across the hallway, and I will come back in a moment to bring you fresh towels and clothes."

Lovino nodded, watching as the other man closed the door. He listened closely to the footsteps as they traveled, further, and further away from him. Once they were out of earshot, he rushed back over to the bed, and fell on top of it. Inhaling deeply, he burrowed himself into the bed, feeling a wave of happiness overcome him. He noticed the sheets and comforter smelt like lavender, and something else, maybe honey. It was a sharp contrast to the musky, dirty smell of his clothing. Realizing that, he got off the bed, not wanting to soil it before even getting to sleep in it.

He tried remembering the last time he had slept on a bed. When he was back at that place, he was force to call home; he was kept in that dark cold room. All he had was a makeshift bed made out of blankets. It was not a place he ever wanted to return to, nothing to be longed for. No, instead, it burned a whole in his heart and a mind. A memory he would never be able to erase no matter how much he wished he could. The blankets, the pain, the blood that trickled down his leg that first time, the ignored pleas to stop, and the countless visits after the first time, it was all too much. He cursed himself for bringing it back into his head, crouching down, and burying his face between his legs. He hadn't realized he had started crying again, until he felt the cool wetness soaking through to his knees.

"Romano…?" The silky deeper voice of the Frenchman swam into his ears. "What's wrong?" Lovino ignored him, trying to calm himself, taking deep breaths. But it wasn't working, he only felt worse, a coiling feeling in his stomach, making him want to puke.

"I… I can't…" He tried to speak, but it was as if all the air had been sucked from him. "I-I can't breathe…"

Immediately, a worried expression found its way on the Frenchman's face, kneeling down next to him. He placed a gently hand on the Italian's back, rubbing it in circles. "Just... try to relax Romano."

"I can't." Lovino sobbed, moving into the other's warm body without thinking. He turned into him, and buried his face into his chest. "Non lasciare che lui mi ha fatto male."

The Frenchman's eyes widen slightly, and he wrapped his arms around him. He stayed quiet, just holding him close. He wondered what had happened to him, to make him so afraid, to break him.

**I hope you liked it! Please review my sweeties!**

**~Cherry**


	4. Pieces

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 4: Pieces**

**I really can't believe how many people have followed this story! I thought that since it was such an unusual pairing, no one would want to read it. Guess I was wrong. xD Thank you so much! I like love you all, and I don't understand why you read my crappy stuff. When you come to the part that is Lovino POV, he is not actually saying all of that to Francis, but for the most part that's what he was telling him.**

_I don't know why he started to hate me. I don't know what I did. But the first time he hit me, I was shocked. The second time he hit me, I cried myself to sleep. But after about the seventh or ninth time, I accepted the fact I had become nothing more than a punching bag, but I learned to deal with it._

* * *

Lovino quietly walk down the spiral staircases, heading down to the kitchen after another long night. It had been a week since he moved in with the Frenchman, and he was still getting used to this whole new routine. Every morning, Lovino would be roused from sleep by a melodic voice, and gently shaken awake. He'd open his eyes to see two blue ones gazing back down at his, and then he'd be told to come down for breakfast. Lovino would then proceed to grumble, and make his way down to the kitchen. It was somewhat annoying. He felt like he was being treated like a kid. He didn't need that.

Once down in the kitchen, he took a seat at the table, his eyes focused on his fiddling fingers.

"Ah, bonjour mon cher." Francis greeted cheerfully as set a platter of fruit on the table next to the croissants he had already placed on the table. "I surely hope you were able to sleep well this time." He gave the Italian a small smile, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Lovino shrugged him off, reaching over and placing some fruit on his plate. "I want some coffee."

Francis sighed, standing up straight, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, you could at least ask nicely." He shook his head, and turned around, walking back over to the counter to make the other a cup of coffee. "Anyways, I must say, you've been doing a great job at the restaurant. However, it would be nice if you'd not be so grumpy around the customers."

Glancing up, Lovino grunted in response. "If they don't like how I act, they can go somewhere else. I don't give a damn." He mumbled, stuffing his face with a piece of croissant.

The Frenchman chuckled lightly, setting the cup of coffee in front of Lovino. "The problem is Romano, I do care. I don't' want to lose business." Sending a mere glance Francis way, Lovino scowled. However, though he wouldn't admit it out loud he was thankful for the kindness he had been shown so far, and didn't want to disappoint Francis. Maybe he could try to smile, just a little.

The two ate in quiet silence; it was a lot less awkward then it was the first few days. Lovino kept taking occasional glances up at Francis, but acted like he looking beyond him whenever Francis would catch his eye.

There came a point in their meal while he was in the middle of taking a bite out of a ripe, red strawberry, when he noticed that Francis was staring intensely at him. A rosy blush painted itself on Lovino's face, as he lowered the strawberry back to his plate. His eyes locked with the other's shyly. "W-Why are you always staring at me?" He asked quietly, reverting his gaze down to his plate. He gnawed on his bottom lip nervously, and started pushing his pieces of fruit around his plate.

"Why? You intrigue me Romano." Francis replied simply. "I wonder about you, about what brought you here and what has hurt you so much… you felt like you had to escape."

The room went silent after his words. There was the faint sound of ticking from the elegant clock on the wall. There was also the soft sound of birds chirping pleasantly near the open kitchen window. Yet, there was no uttered sound from the Italian. No words were spoken in return. There was simply the thick silence that hung over like cloud injected with lead.

"Signore Bonnefoy…." Lovino quietly muttered.

"We have not regressed suddenly in our relationship have we?" The Frenchman inquired upon the formality.

"Francis." The Italian stuttered. He kept his gaze down. His hands moved down into his lap, fingers drumming nervously on his thighs. "I don't want to talk about it." He looked back up at the Frenchman, his hazel eyes mixed with sadness, and a fear that had and always will be there.

"But it's good to tal—"

"Not this time." Lovino bit his lip, and then pushed his plate away. "I-I'm going to get ready." He stood up from the table, and then continued walking out of the kitchen.

Francis sighed, and watched silently as the other walked away. His heart seemed to fall down to the bottom of his chest. He didn't understand. He wanted to reach out, and help him. He just didn't know how. He had been trying his best to get him to talk to him, but with all his efforts, he always got shot down.

"Romano! Bonjour!" The dark haired, somber Italian was greeted by an energetic filled hug, and kiss on the cheek once he arrived at the restaurant. Lovino smiled slightly, hugging the girl he had come to know as Victoria. She was a pretty girl, with long dark legs, and bright happy eyes. Lovino had come to find out that she was another person that Francis had taken under his caring wing, and guided out of difficult times.

"Buongiorno Victoria. Dios mio, you look beautiful today." He said, lightly pressing a kiss to her coffee cheek.

Francis walked up, wrapping his arms around both of their necks. "I hope you aren't flirting with my little girl." He said, leaning into the shorter man's ear.

Lovino shook his head. "Why? Are you just being an overprotective little shit?" Victoria giggled, her cheeks heating up. "Or are you perhaps jealous that she likes me better, hmm?"

The Frenchman grinned, leaning in closer to his ear, and whispered softly. "Maybe I'm jealous of her." He took a step back, watching with amusement as the Italian turned redder with each passing second. "Let's get the day started." He clapped loudly; alerting it was time to get to work. He kept his gaze on Lovino as he stepped back towards the kitchen, a small smirk running across his face. A scowl appeared onto the flush face staring back at Francis. Crossing his arms over his chest, the young Italian followed behind quietly to the kitchen. His ears brushed pink as he followed.

A few days later Lovino woke up screaming. His hair was matted down from sweat, which also was the cause for the damp sheets. He looked up, breathing heavily and quickly, and saw Francis rush into his room. The tall man sat beside him, sitting the young man up. He wrapped an arm around him, and tried his best to calm him.

"Romano…Romano." He whispered softly, placing a gentle hand on the Italian's face. "What is it? Was it another bad dream?"

Lovino smacked the man's hand away, and moved away from him, shakily. "You, y-you just stay away from me bastard."

Francis frowned, and took the other's hand in his. "Romano. I'm tired of seeing you like this." His slightly calloused fingers, gently brushed over the Italian's skin. "Please…. Tell me what's wrong."

Lovino looked up at him with tired eyes. He needed to tell someone, or else this was going to keep eating him until there was no soul left in his body.

**~Lovino POV~**

_I was only three years old when my mother died. She passed away when my little brother, Feliciano, was born. There were complications during the pregnancy, and my mother made a choice, a choice that saved Feliciano, but killed another angel in the process. You might think that my father would have hated my little brother for 'taking' away his amore, but he didn't. No, instead he adored Feliciano because he reminded my father of mother. They were so alike. So much that all the love my father had, went to my brother. If it wasn't for us moving in with our grandfather, and getting at least some affection from him, I would have been nothing but an outsider._

_But it wasn't so bad, I was still happy. I was happy until grandfather died. After that however, everything changed._

_I don't know why he started to hate me. I don't know what I did. But the first time he hit me, I was shocked. The second time he hit me, I cried myself to sleep. But after about the seventh or ninth time, I accepted the fact I had become nothing more than a punching bag, but I learned to deal with it._

_When I turned nine, my father decided I had become a nuisance, and was afraid I would become a bad example for Feliciano. He locked me down in the cold basement with nothing but a small palate of blankets. The first night I was down there, I prayed to God asking what I had done. I never got an answer. I think he decided I wasn't worth it, or maybe he agreed with father. Maybe he preferred Feliciano over me too. My brother was perfect. He was sweet, cute, and always did what he was told with a smile on his face. How could I ever compare?_

_When I turned eleven father came downstairs one night, his breath smelling of alcohol, and climb over me cooing sweet words to me he had never said to me before. I thought maybe he was finally going to let me out. I had finally done something good. I was wrong again. He held my arms, and tore off the tight worn pants with the holes in them, and turned me over. I struggled, and whimpered, asking what he was doing. He ignored my questions, and slammed into me without any sort of warning. I screamed, tears pouring down my cheeks. I didn't understand. _

_He told me he loved me._

_I wanted him to stop._

_He told me it would feel good eventually._

_I told him it hurt._

_He hit me when I wouldn't shut up._

_My childish sobs grew into hysterics when I felt the blood dripping down my leg._

_I wanted to end, but it felt like eternity until finally it did end._

_He pulled out with a grunt, his chest heaving up and down. He turned me back over, and kissed at my tears. He started crying himself when I wouldn't stop, telling me over and over that he loved me. He told me he would never do it again. I believed him._

_I believed him until he came back a week later. Each time he would tell me he would never do it again. Each time I believed him until he did what he promised not to, breaking the trust once more. He started coming more frequently, and he became rougher as time went by._

_I think one time I told him I wouldn't let him touch me ever again. He became furious, lashing out at me, and his hands wrapped around my throat. The bruise marks stayed there for the rest of the week. Father told me that without me, he would have to go to Feliciano. He knew that would get to me. There was no way, no matter how much I hated Feliciano for getting things so easily, for being the golden child, there was no way I wanted him to go through this evil. _

"I couldn't take it anymore…." Lovino sniffed, finding himself in the warm comfort of the Frenchman's arms. "I had to get away."

Francis didn't say anything in return. He simply held the other close, comforting him with his actions. This wasn't one of those times words would work. Instead, he let him cry into his shoulder until Lovino finally calmed down.

As Francis moved to stand up, Lovino grabbed his wrist, holding him firmly in place. "J-Just…please stay." The Frenchman eyes softened, and he sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Of course."

"But stay on your side, d-don't you dare touch me."

The blonde nodded, giving him his assurance by getting up and pulling over a chair instead. He sat down, and smiled gently at the other.

Lovino let out a slight sigh, turning over so his back was towards Francis. He pulled his blanket over his body, biting his lip. "Umm….thank you."

Francis smiled sadly. His brain still processing the horrible things Lovino had to endure. He wished he had met him earlier. He would have protected him sooner. He could have done something.

"I haven't done anything to deserve any thanks, but you are welcome…."

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**Thanks for reading! PLEEEEASE REVIEW! ;D**


	5. Hallelujah

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 5: Hallelujah**

**Title of chapter five is name after the song Hallelujah, I was playing at THE WHOLE TIME I WROTE THIS thanks to sooommmeone.**

_Lovino averted his gaze back to the sheets, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Do you think… do you think I'll ever be able t-to love someone?_

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Lovino woke up the next morning, and to his surprise the annoying Frenchman kept his promise. He had stayed the whole night in the chair. He was still asleep in fact. His long, wavy, golden hair was scattered over his face. He couldn't help but admit how perfect he looked sleeping there. He was so beautiful; Lovino couldn't wrap his head around why someone so perfect, even bothered with him.

He sat up from the bed, and crawled across it towards Francis. Sitting on his knees, he leant over the chair, and pressed a hesitant hand to his cheek. Each and every finger trembled as he touched the other's skin, afraid he would wake the sleeping beauty. With a little more confidence, he brushed the hair from the other's face, and stared at him. A red blush started spreading across his cheeks, realizing he had been leaning close and close to the other's face. He was so close now; he could feel the other's light breathing on his face. He knew he wanted something, but before he could do anything about it, Francis began shifting in his sleep muttering, and sending Lovino scurrying back to his original place on the bed.

Lovino was so embarrassed, if not frightened by his own behavior. He pulled the soft sheets over his head, right as Francis roused from his sleep. All he had to do was pretend he was asleep, and try to calm his quickly beating heart.

He listened silently as the Frenchman, stood from his chair. His bare feet padded softly, as he walked around the bed to where Lovino slept. Lovino realized that trying calm his heart was out of the question now, his heart racing with no stop in sight instead. He could feel him, Francis, come closer and closer. The Frenchman's body leaned over him, pausing briefly, and then kissed his forehead through the cottony sheets.

Lovino clenched his eyes shut, his body trembling until Francis pulled back.

"Good morning Romano…"

Lovino gasped, throwing the sheets over his head, and stared up at Francis. Once again, his cheeks were painted with a red blush. "Y-You knew I was awake?"

Francis smirked lightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course I did. "

Glancing away, Lovino scowled. His fingers curled into the sheets; a nervousness overtaking his system. "H-How long? How long have you been awake?" He said slowly, each word receiving twice the emphasis as compared to usually.

"I just woke up." He explained, sitting at the edge of the bed. "But I heard the rustling of you throwing the blankets over your head."

The Italian let out a small sigh of relief. He would have to start watching himself around this man. He sat back up, glancing up Francis. He realized, he had told him everything the night before. He knew his secret. He knew something he had never told anyone else.

"Francis," He started as he realized that the blonde had his eyes on him again, the intensity of the gaze making him nervous. "Can I…can I ask you something?"

Francis scooted closer, "What is it?"

Lovino averted his gaze back to the sheets, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Do you think… do you think I'll ever be able t-to love someone?" He had thought about this before. He had been taught the wrong kind of 'love', and he didn't know if it was possible to learn how to really love someone after that. It frightened him, becoming old, and always being alone. He shyly looked back up at up at Francis, biting his bottom lip. "O-Or am I broken forever?" Did papa ruin me?" His voice grew more desperate with each word he uttered. "I –I don't want to be alone forever Francis. I- I…" Then suddenly everything blew up. Francis had placed his hands on his cheeks, and pulled him forward, catching his lips in a kiss. His face burned like raging fire, and his heart made little summersaults in his chest. And just like it had started, it was over. Francis pulled back, licking his lips, and gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry…" He began. "You looked like you were about to cry again, so… kissed you."

All Lovino could do was stare at him, his fingers brushing along his lips. "Y-You kissed me…"

Francis nodded, "Ah, yes I did."

Panic decided to sneak in, and plant itself into Lovino. He scooted all the way back, looking at Francis as if he had grown three heads. "You fucking kissed me! I told you not to touch me!" He stood up from the bed going around the long way to avoid Francis. "I told you! I fucking told you!" He gasped, his whole body slowly beginning to shake.

Francis stood up, clearly confused. "I'm sorry, I didn't think…"

"You didn't think? He didn't think either! He was too busy being fucking drunk all the time!" He screamed, his voice getting caught in his throat.

Slowly, Francis tried to approach him. He felt terrible. This was the last thing he wanted to accomplish with that kiss. "Romano…"

"Don't… please…" Lovino shook his head, and ran for the door. He rushed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind him. Sliding down the door to a crouching position, he buried his face into his hands. He could hear it again, the padded footsteps of the Frenchman approaching. They stopped right in front of the bathroom, just like he knew they would.

"Get the fuck out of here!"

He heard a small sigh from the other side of the door. He could just imagine Francis there, his blue eyes dulled from feeling guilty. He had seen the look before when it came to him. Or it was the look for whenever Francis felt bad for him. He hated that look.

"You can…."

"I said get the….." Lovino paused, his whole demeanor perking up slightly. "W-What?"

There was another small sigh, and then the shuffling of feet. "You can still love." He said softly. "You can still be happy. You just need someone to teach you how."

Lovino went silent. He gnawed on his bottom lip, and clenched his eyes shut, feeling them burn. "You're a liar."

"It's the truth. You can be happy."

He turned towards the door, and placed his hand against the wood. "H-How Francis? Who's going to 'teach' me, and not just take advantage of me like _he_ did?" His fingers curled into towards the door, seeking for the answers.

"I'll teach you."

Lovino stood up, and stared at the door for a long time. Finally, his fingers curled around the cold metal of the door knob, and opened the door. His gaze was casted down, and he took two small steps toward Francis. Shyly, he lifted his arms, and wrapped them around Francis' middle, burying his face into his chest.

"You b-better not be lying to me bastard."

Francis smiled softly, his fingers running up, and brushing through his hair. "I promise."

The Italian gripped the other's shirt, trembling slightly. "You better not!" He huffed weakly.

They stayed like that for a few moments, Lovino wrapped around the Frenchman. Then the urge hit him again. The same urge from when he was watching Francis sleep.

"….Francis."

"Oui?"

"W-Will you….k-kiss me again?" He immediately wanted to take back his words, but it was already out there. And before he could think more about it, Francis had tilted his chin up towards him, placing another kiss on his lips. It was so much different than any kiss he had. It was soft, gentle, and caring. It made him feel safe. He felt safe like this.

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**Thanks for reading once again! Please Review, it lets me know you guys still like it!**


	6. Absolutely

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 6: Absolutely**

**I hope this chapter came out okay..**

* * *

After about thirty minutes of calming and reassuring the very confused and lost Italian, together, Francis and Lovino took to the kitchen to start the morning of properly.

"So what do we do first? How are you going to…teach me?" Lovino asked hesitantly, pulling on the hem of his night shirt. He glanced up with an unsure look in his eyes, watching the Frenchman as he moved around the kitchen fixing their breakfast.

"Well, we can start by having you help me with breakfast." Francis said, looking back at Lovino as he grated some cheese to lightly go over the omelets he planned to make.

Lovino gave him a confused look, scrunching up his nose. "How is that supposed to help?"

"It will help me get breakfast done. That's how."

Lovino didn't appreciate the tone of the remark. With a roll of his eyes, Lovino walked over to a drawer to the side of Francis, and pulled out one of the aprons kept in there. Francis always made a point of making sure to wear an apron, and whoever was cooking with him had to wear one as well. He said it was better to keep your body and clothes clean. Lovino could care less however. He had never had nice clothes to bother to keep clean, but he knew Francis would gripe at him if he didn't put one on. A griping, fussy Francis was the last thing he wanted that morning, so he would put one on despite how he felt.

There was only one other apron left in the drawer. It was a pink one that read 'embrasse-moi' in black, cursive letters. Begrudgingly, Lovino tied it around his waist, grumbling on about why the idiot would keep an apron like this in his home. "You're weird, you know that right?" Lovino muttered, as he watched over Francis shoulder, waiting for some sort of instruction.

A small scoff came from Francis. "I'm unique. No weirder than any other man. Now go into the refrigerator, and take out some of those vegetables in there. Then I want you to chop them up for me. Can you handle that, Romano?"

Lovino nodded, trudging over to refrigerator with heavy steps. "Yeah, yeah. I can handle that." He sighed, reaching inside, and grabbing the mentioned items.

They worked together in a quiet, comfortable silence. No other words exchanged between until the food was done. Upon completion, Francis turned towards Lovino with a grin and pecked his cheek.

"We finished! Now, you cannot deny that we work splendidly together?" He gave the Italian a slight nudge with his elbow, taking note of the reddening face of the other.

A loud sigh slipped from Lovino, as he shoved the other away from him. "Sure…" He turned his head away, realizing that they did work rather well together. It was nice too. He didn't realize it yet, but he was finally starting to relax around the Frenchman. "Yeah, I guess we do."

Francis giggled, grinning brightly. "We are like, the dynamic duo! Preparing food that delights all the senses one meal at a time!"

Staring at Francis, Lovino raised a brow seriously wondering if this guy was mental, or just weird. "I think, you are taking this too far now. Let's just eat. I'm starving!"

The omelets turned out perfectly, slightly golden at the top, and sprinkled with a bit of cheese. They were filled with the onions and tomatoes that Lovino had chopped up, creating a beautiful visual of different colors when cut into. They had also sliced some pieces of fruit, and ate that alongside their omelets and coffee Francis prepared while cooking. Soon enough they had finish the delicious meal, leaving them both satisfied and full.

"I was wondering," Francis began as they were cleaning up their dishes, and fixing the kitchen back to its original tidy state. "Would you like to go out, and do something with me today? This could be good chance for me to start with my….teachings?" The Frenchman scrunched his nose at the word, but if that's what the other wanted to call it.

"Where would we go?" Lovino asked. He wasn't keen on the idea just yet. Every decision he made was always with hint reluctance and a dash of hesitation, and going out with someone like Francis couldn't just be taken lightly. At least not to Lovino.

"A park or maybe we could go shopping. You could use some new clothes of your own couldn't you?"

Immediately Lovino brightened with interest, perking up at the idea of going shopping, like a puppy at the prospect of a treat. He had never had the chance to buy his own clothes. He had never even received anything new, at least not for quite a long time. Anything he had was given to him, and usually was torn or would be torn within weeks. The last time he did get new clothes fresh from a store was when his Grandfather was still alive.

"Do I get to buy whatever I want?" He asked slowly, not wanting to seem overly excited.

"Of course."

It was no more than a few hours later before the two found themselves surrounded by clothes. As soon as they walked through the door, Lovino was mesmerized by the smell and feel of everything. He walked around, touching the fabrics, and running his hands over shoes, catching the judging gaze of the workers there. He didn't care though, nor did he really notice anyways. He was much too busy, trying to process the fact that he was going to be allowed to walk out with something, and call it is own.

Within minutes, he had three shirts, two pairs of pants, a vest, and a jacket. His eyes wide with excitement, he rushed over to Francis and bumped him. "O-Oi! Where I can try this on at?" He asked hurriedly. He was practically bouncing on his toes at this point, and his cheeks were tinted a soft red from his eagerness.

Francis stared down at him, biting his lip as he tried to hold back the smile that dared crossed his face. It was cute, maybe even endearing seeing the other so excited about something. He could almost envision him with a tail wagging back and forth quickly like an over excited puppy. He was pretty sure he had never seen him this way since the short time that he met him.

"There is a fitting room in the corner over there. I think they only have one or two rooms here. I'll show you." The Frenchman took some of the clothes from him, and the led him over to the fitting room that he had mention.

"Grazie!" Lovino rushed right in, stripping off the clothes that Francis had been lending him, and slipped into the ones he had picked out.

In a few minutes, he came out with a shy smile, his hands behind his back as he looked down at the ground bashfully. "So, what do you think?" He asked the Frenchman. Francis looked him up and down, a wide grin slowly spreading across his face.

"You look wonderful! You should definitely get that."

Grinning, the Italian looked down at his attire, checking himself out. "You think so? The other things I picked out looked nice too."

"Then get all of it."

Lovino glanced up, a shock expression on his face. He tilted his head to the side, and gave the other a skeptical look. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

That was all the assurance Lovino needed. The bright smile appeared back onto his face, and he rushed back into the fitting room to try on the rest of his clothes.

Back at home, and with all the clothing Lovino bought tucked away in their proper places, Francis mentioned that it would be a good time to head down the restaurant. They both changed, and then headed to the Frenchman's café.

"I was thinking, maybe you could help me in the kitchen today. I'll have Matthew work out front with Victoria, and you and I could work side by side. How does that sound?"

The Italian shrugged, giving him a mere glance in acknowledgment. "Sure, whatever." He mumbled, glancing over. He had wanted to thank Francis since they had step foot out of the store, but he was finding it incredibly hard to do.

"Thank you." He finally muttered in a soft tone. He wasn't even sure if the other had heard him. But Francis had, he just kept that fact to himself, and smiled.

They arrived at the restaurant in good time, being greeted by Victoria as always. Matthew however, was at the register talking to someone as if they knew each other very well. He had pale hair, and pale skin, and from the angle Lovino was coming in from he almost looked to have reddish looking eyes. To the side of that guy, who actual seemed to be making the Canadian blush, there was another man. This one had green eyes, a tan, and dark hair.

Lovino furrowed his brows, and grabbed Francis arm, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Oi, are those regulars or something?"

Francis turned from Victoria, and glanced over to the two men Lovino was directing his attention to, and grinned. "You could say that. Those two are my good friends, Gilbert and Antonio. I'll introduce you." He took the Italian by the hand, and led him over to the register where they stood.

"Antonio, Gilbert, I want you to meet someone." He said, thrusting himself into the conversation. Lovino shuffled himself behind Francis, shying away from the two.

"Hey! Isnt' this the cute little guy you told us you were letting stay at your house?" The one named Gilbert grinned.

Francis and Lovino both reddened.

"G-Gilbert shut up!" Francis elbowed him in the arm, and turned towards Antonio, rolling his eyes. "Please remind me why am friends with this idiot!"

The Spaniard didn't respond, he way too busy staring at Lovino with a look of unsure curiosity on his face. Lovino glanced up at him, and scrunched his nose.

"What the hell are you staring at?"

Confused, Francis looked between Antonio and Lovino, unsure of what was going on. But the look on Antonio's face concerned him, he couldn't place why. He could tell something was up, and it made bumps on his skin rise.

"Antonio, what's wrong?"

Antonio glanced at Francis for a brief second, his mouth slightly ajar as he tried to place his words.

"I…." He turned his gaze back towards Lovino, cocking his head to the side. "Don't I know you? Lovino Vargas right?"

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**Please review. Ideas, critique, suggestions would all be nice.**


	7. Tell Me a Secret

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 7: Tell Me a Secret**

* * *

"Lovino Vargas, right?"

Lovino stared at Antonio, the blood slowly draining from his face as he stood frozen. He knew his name. This man knew his name, his real name. The Italian started to shake. His hand slowly reached for Francis arm, fingers tightening around it.

"You are Lovino aren't you?" The Spaniard grinned. "I'd recognized you anywhere! Even if you were covered in mud!"

He couldn't pull out an answer. Lovino mumbled something softly, his face frozen in a horrified expression. He turned to Francis and quickly pulled him away from the group, holding his hand tightly. He just wanted to get away as quick as possible.

"Wait, where are you going?" Antonio blinked.

Francis frowned; he glanced back at Antonio then back at Lovino, as he let himself be led away. He was confused about what was going on, and even more confused about what Antonio had said. "Romano, what's going on?"

Lovino stayed silent, not replying until he was sure a good distance away from the group. He turned to Francis, and looked up at him, fear embedded in his amber eyes. "I have to get out of here."

"But what's going on? Why is Antonio saying he knows you? He called you Lovino… Is there something I don't know?"

The Italian quickly shook his head.

"No…." He gnawed at his bottom lip, and glanced over at the Spaniard. Panic was quickly setting in, and he knew he had to get out of there as soon as possible, or else he'd break down. "I promise Francis. I've told you everything, but I have to get out of here." His voice trembled as his gaze lowered to the floor. "Please."

Francis glanced back at his friends who were watching them curiously and then back at Lovino. He figured he could talk to Antonio later. He sighed softly. "Fine. I will drop you off, but we will talk about this later." He took the other's chin between his fingers, and gave him a stern look. "Alright?"

Lovino jerked his head away, crossing his arms over his chest. "O-Okay…" He said slowly. He glanced back once more at the Spaniard. There was something familiar about him, and that's what scared him the most. Anything that could have come from his past needed to stay there.

"Go on to the car, I just have to tell everyone where I'm going." Francis said, interrupting Lovino's thoughts.

Nodding, Lovino wasted no time in snatching up the keys, and swiftly walked out of the building. Outside, he cautiously glanced around, making sure that no one was lurking. He was trying to place how he knew that other man. Those green eyes were too familiar, and his voice, he remembered that voice from a memory long ago. What had Francis called him again?

"Alright we can go now."

Lovino snapped back to the present, glancing at Francis as he sat himself inside the car. Francis started the car silently, and there were no words to be spoken the entire drive back.

It wasn't until they had both walked into Francis home, and he had shut the door he finally spoke up. Lovino had tried to exit the main rom as quickly as possible, heading towards the stairs, but Francis quickly grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him back.

"Listen here Romano. I need to know. What's going on here? You need to tell me. Antonio acts like he knows you, and he called you Lovino, and I know you have your secrets. However, I thought we were starting to trust each other. Now I'm not so sure. It takes two to trust."

Lovino wanted to tell him trust didn't work that easily. He wanted to push him away, and run up the stairs to the safety of his blankets. But he didn't move, or lash out, or cry. Instead he shrugged, and looked towards the ground, a somber expression on his face. His mind was somewhere else, and Francis was barely even registering at the moment.

"I don't know what to tell you Francis…" He said, his voice was quiet, broken, and confused.

Francis stared at him for a second, not pleased, but he would leave it alone until he came back from his work day. There really wasn't much he could do now, and he figured he would simply talk to Antonio first.

"Fine. I'll let you play this little game until I get back. However, Romano, when I get back, we will talk about this. You are going to tell me what's going on, or else these so called lessons, these lessons will be useless." He sighed, reaching up with his long fingers and running them through his wavy, shoulder length hair. "Listen, one of the important things that have to be there when love comes to play is trust. I need you to trust me, and I need to trust that you do."

Leaving at that, the Frenchman dug his hands in his deep pockets, retrieving his keys, and then placed a gentle hand on the other's shoulders. He kissed the Italian's forehead, feeling the other stiffen slightly as his lips grazed his skin.

"Get some rest, or take a walk. I'll be back."

With that, he was able to go on his way. First, going back out to the car, and then driving it back to the café. As he drove silently, the soft sound of classical music comparable to the melodious sound of singing angels played from his radio. The music relaxed him to an extent, but he couldn't help but think of what had just happened. More than anything, he just wished that he could get to the truth, and help the Italian along the way. However, he knew that would only work if the Italian let him.

Finally, back at the café, he quickly scanned the building, and saw that his two friends were still there. The only difference was that now, they were eating, instead of just distracting Matthew from his work. Francis quickly made a run to the kitchen, checking to make sure that everything was in order, and assuring his treasured workers he'd be back there, working with the rest of them in a minute. He kissed Victoria on the forehead, and winked at Matthew before heading to the back table where his friends sat.

He motioned for the Gilbert to scoot over to the next seat, and then sat down himself across from Antonio. "Alright, mon ami, I need to know what you were talking about before I left. You mentioned that you know him, Romano or… er Lovino?"

Antonio, having been in the middle of a bite, set his fork down and nodded quickly. He wiped at his face with back of his hand, and swallowed slowly.

"Si! I know for sure that was Lovinito. I used to babysit him and his brother, long time ago before their grandfather died."

Francis nodded slowly, recalling Lovino telling him about his grandfather. "You call him Lovino, but he told his name was Romano."

The Spaniard shook his head. "No, I'm telling you, his name is Lovino Vargas. He was a cute little, stubborn kid, but sad. I tried to give him one on one attention, since I could tell no one else did. "He explained, a smile on his face as he remembered the times spent together with fondness. "His little brother I saw not too long ago. I had to take some things up to his father. It was kind of sad; he didn't seem like his usual cheerful self when I saw him. And that is really strange! He's usually the like the cutest little ball of excitement! At the time, I wasn't sure what had happened."

Stiffening, Francis could only guess why. He wouldn't tell his friend what Lovino had told him. That much wasn't his business. "I see. Thank you Antonio." He glanced between his two friends, and excused himself, standing up from the table. "You too can stay as long as you like, but don't bother my customers." His gaze then drifted to Gilbert, raising his brow sternly. "And you don't bother Mathieu while he's working."

"Aww, come on now Franny! You must really want your bestest friend in all of the world to die alone. Here I thought we were best friends, and best friends don't stop their friends from finding true love!" He moaned. "I guess I was wrong!"

"I said while he was working." Francis smirked. "However, if you wish to take him out when he gets off, I might be willing to let him off an hour earlier."

Immediately, Gilbert brightened, standing up to hug Francis. "Haha! I knew you weren't that cruel Franny!" Antonio just watched, grinning from side to side, giggling. Francis chuckled softly, hugged the other back. "I was just playing with ya."

"Of course." He smiled, and rolled his eyes blatantly." Now, I've been detained long enough. I must finally get to work. You two behave."

Before Francis could reach the kitchen, Antonio stopped him, grabbing him by the wrist so he would turn towards him.

"Francis hold on. Do you mind if I talk to Lovino. I think there is something I should tell him."

Francis fell silent, his startling blue eyes flicking from the other's hand to his face. "I don't know. I don't think he would want that."

Antonio shook his head, and wrapped his other hand around the other's arm, looking up at him hopefully. "Please. It's very important, and I didn't want to say anything around Gilbert. It's about his brother." His voice dropped to a whisper as the words floated from his mouth.

"H-His brother?" An uneasy feeling rose in Francis. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Antonio did know what went on behind closed doors in that house after all. He had known Lovino a lot longer than he had. "After closing, come with me back to the house. Okay?"

The Spaniard nodded. "Gracias Francis! I promise, this is very important! I hope you can help too." He leaned forward and kissed the other's cheek, finally letting go of his arm. "I'm going to run errands, then come back later!"

Antonio took a step back, then after waving goodbye to everyone, headed out the door.

"Help…?"

_Meanwhile back at Francis' home_

He tried to fall asleep. Wrapping himself in the feather soft blankets, and letting it swallow him whole, he tried to catch the coattail of a relaxing nap. But each time he closed his eyes, the man at the store would appear, and he was trying to place how he knew him. Not only that though. Oh no, his mind was much too hyperactive to simply keep it at that. Instead, it would also succeed in making him feel as if he was now being watch, as if at any moment his Father would appear, and he would be taken back to that hell.

His whole body shuddered at the vision of large hands, grabbing hold of his arms, and pinning him down. There was really no escape. No matter how far he ran.

But even then, he suspected that his mind had been replaced with some sort of demon. His mind still continued to wander; drifting to his brother, something he had tried not to do since he had ran away. He was the only reason why Romano had stayed so long, and now that he had left, he was haunted with the thought that maybe his Father would now sink so low as to hurt his little brother.

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**Please review, it really encourages me! Thank you lovelies!**


	8. Wheels

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 8: Wheels**

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Francis was furious. After what hearing what Antonio had to say, he was sure of what he needed to do. He made sure that Matthew and Victoria would be able to close the restaurant on their own, then grabbed the Spaniard and headed back to his house to nab Romano as well.

As he was about enter his house, the already cloudy skies began to grumble amongst themselves, and shed tears that hit Francis skin lightly. For the most part, he ignored the soft pricks of rain on his skin, as he fumbled with his keys.

"Go find Romano…Lovino, for me." He ordered Antonio who gave a curt nod, and entered the house with further direction.

While Antonio gathered Lovino, Francis grabbed a couple of blankets, and tried to think of what else they would need for their short trip. Yelling was heard from above him, and he didn't have to focus much to know that it was coming from the Italian. He dropped his things, and ran upstairs to see Lovino fighting with Antonio.

"Get away from me! I'm not going back there!" Lovino yelled, backed against a wall, and crunched down like a cornered cat ready to pounce at being threatened.

"But Lovino, you're little brother needs our help. We have to help him." Antonio said gently, reaching a hand out to reassure Lovino as he walked towards him.

"No.." Lovino shook his head, and looked up at Francis who had just entered the room. He ran over to the elder man, and wrapped his arms around him. "Francis… please… I don't want to go back. He's going to be furious with me. Please…"

Francis expression softened, "Lovino, Antonio and I won't let anything happen to you. But we need you there to reassure your brother. We have to help him too. Like I helped you…"

Lovino hesitated, glancing down at the floor. He was terrified. Yet at the same time, he was worried about his brother he had left behind. The nagging feeling of dread had long ago settled in his stomach, which is why he had try to push the thought of his brother out of his mind. But after what Antonio had just told him before Francis came in, he had no doubt that his brother was in trouble.

He wished he could find the courage to return, but it wasn't in him. To face his father again, was to come face to face with his demon, and he just wasn't sure he was ready for that.

Francis could read the shifting emotions passing through his face. He knew there was a battle going on there. Taking Lovino's chin into his hands, he looked into his eyes holding his chin securely. "I won't leave your side Lovino. I will be there every step of the way. And when we come back, your brother will be safe and so will you. You have my word. I will not allow him to lay a hand on not even a strand of your hair."

Hesitantly, Lovino nodded. He could only hope that his father would be nowhere around when they arrived.

"Francis…" He mumbled. He was overwhelmed with emotions, surging through him like unstable waves. He didn't know rather to cry, or smile. He was scared, yet he felt a miniscule amount of happiness in his heart that someone cared so dearly about him. In fact, since he had come to France, he had only met people who wanted to make him happy. It was not only Francis, but Matthew and Victoria, and even the nice older lady who sold flowers down the street from the restaurant.

"Thank you Francis..." His arms wrapped around the Frenchman's neck, and he allowed himself to trust him. His cheek pressed against the man's chest, and he could smell the mix of strong cologne and hints of lavender and honey that made up Francis unique aroma.

"You're welcome, my love. We must get going now if we are to get to your brother as soon as possible. We'll have to drive all night and well into the morning. Depending on where in Italy you live it could take a whole day."

"_You're back. How foolish. You've always been a worthless idiot, but now you've just proved it." Lovino stared at his father, his hazel eyes widened, and his body frozen in fear. His heart was beating like a drum, threatening to explode from his chest. He knew he shouldn't have come back…._

_On the dirty floor, both Francis and Antonio laid, their clothes stained with their own blood, barely breathing._

"_Run…" The walls seemed to say. "Get away before it's too late."_

_He tried to but he found he couldn't. He blinked, and he suddenly found himself in his old room. The one before he had been sent to his own confinement. It was the room his brother had inherited from him. On the bed laid a motionless body, he couldn't tell who it was from the outline. Slowly, he approached, his hand trembling as he reached out, and pulled the blanket it off._

_His brother was there, his eyes rolled back against his head, with blood pooling between his legs. It wouldn't stop. Frantically, Lovino tried to stop it, tried to find where it was coming from, but to no avail. His blood poured out like steady stream, running down the sides of the bed, and started to fill the room. _

_He was crying. He could taste the tears. He was screaming for help, but he couldn't even hear himself as the blood reached his knees. Trying to escape the drowning pool of blood, he crawled into bed with his brother, and pulled him into his chest. There was no escape. He rocked his brother's lifeless body back and forth, his hands stained with his blood._

_The crimson liquid kept rising, and rising. Soon, it was at his neck, and he knew that he would be drowned in his brother's blood. His father's words rang in his ear. _

_Pathetic. Worthless._

_And soon his own words filled his mind._

_Murderer._

_He held tightly to his little brother, weeping and praying to god for forgiveness. He begged for help as the blood reached his lips, trying to keep it from running into his mouth. There was no answer. He remembered that god had left him long time ago, and sank into darkness._

"_Lovino…"_

"Lovino!"

Lovino jerked awake, gasping for air. Panting heavily, he glanced around and realized it was all but a terrifying nightmare. But there was that recurring dread that he would see that it would come true.

"We're here."

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even short as it is!**


	9. He's Trouble

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 9: He's Trouble**

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He's not home. That's the first thing Lovino noticed as he hesitantly stepped out of the car. The home was too still for his father to be present. A shiver ran through his body simply looking at the small house. Memories that he had wanted to forget, crept like the legs of spiders back into mind. "I can't go in there Francis…"

Reassuringly, Francis placed a hand on his back. "We're going to get your brother, and leave." . His touch was firm, yet gentle. Romano looked up at him, biting unsurely on his bottom lip". "That's all. This whole time, Francis kept his every promise. Deep down, he knew he could trust this man whose eyes held nothing but sincerity in them. However, it wasn't simply that he needed to trust Francis, but also overcome his own fear that rooted him to the spot.

"Lovino, I'm sure your brother misses you…." Antonio finally piped up, previously forgotten. "And I know for a fact he needs you there, right now. If we don't go now, your father will come back! And then it will be too late." Taking the Italian's hand, he squeezed it gently, giving the same reassuring comfort that Francis was also gave. "Let's go get your brother, si?"

Lovino nodded slowly, still unsure, his heart still beating with fear. But he wanted to protect his brother, despite the fact that he hated and despised him for being the better of them. Because while he hated his brother, he also loved him, and his brotherly responsibly to protect Feliciano overwhelmed him.

They entered the house through the back. There was a loose window that allowed them to quietly sneak through and into the house. It was cold, and dark. The walls had paint peeling at the edges, and there was a lack of things that made a house a home, save for the pictures of their mother and their mother only that littered the walls.

"She was beautiful." Francis whispered eyeing each and every photo with interest, as they followed Lovino down a narrow hall.

"I know."

Within a few moments, they were in front of another simple white door, but instead of locking from the inside, it locked from outside of the door. Glancing back, Lovino took in a deep breath, looking to the other men for reassurance. It had been a while since he had seen his brother, and he wasn't sure if he would be mad at him for leaving him behind. Francis nodded, and that's what it took for Lovino to unlock the door.

On the other side, there was hurried rustling of sheets, and small footsteps could be heard making their way across the room. Lovino push the door open, and stepped inside the, his heart racing anxiously.

His brother, his precious, dear baby brother stood in the middle of the room, shivering in an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of shorts. He looked so much different, he was paler than usually, and he looked thinner. There were dark circles in under his eyes, but his eyes themselves brightened immensely when he saw Lovino looking back at him. And unless Lovino was mistaken, there were the lingering shape of bruises on his arms.

"Lovino…" He stuttered in surprise. Feliciano reached out, and immediately threw his arms around him, burying his face into his elder brother's warm chest.

"I'm sorry Feliciano… I'm sorry for leaving you." Lovino mumbled into the other's hair. His body was trembling, and he knew he was crying. What he had feared from the beggining had happened. There was no doubt in his mind; his father had turned to his little brother once he had left. He didn't need to ask in order to know. He saw it as soon as he looked into Feliciano's eyes. "Dio mio…. I'm so sorry." He choked, clutching tighter to the younger boy in his arms.

"Fratello, shh. I'm okay! You've come back." Feliciano pulled back, and gave him a small, broken smile. "We… we can be a family again!"

A soft feeling of warmth filled Lovino's stomach at the mention of family. Feliciano placed his hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch, so gentle, just like his mother's. The feeling quickly passed though. It was impossible for them to ever be a family, complete, whole, and functional. Not with his father in the picture.

"Feli no…. We're leaving."

Meanwhile, Francis and Antonio had taken watch. They didn't want to be caught off guard if the boys' father suddenly stumbled through the door, pissed and drunk.

"I still think it's weird that I found Lovi in your care." The Spaniard smiled, resting against a wall.

Francis was off in his own world thinking when the words reached into his ear. He glanced over at his friend, and raised a brow. "What was that? I'm sorry, I was thinking about something."

"I was just saying, it's weird that I Lovi ended up with you." He chuckled.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, I just think that he couldn't have landed anywhere better!"

Looking off to the side, a small smile painted across Francis face. He was just going to assume that he meant it sincerely. "I care about him…"

"I would say that he means a little more than that by the look on your face." Antonio reached over to gently shove at Francis good naturedly.

Reddening softly at his words, Francis shoved back, and chuckled. "You don't know what you're talking abo—Do you hear that?" The Frenchman froze, stretching his neck to look around the corner. There was a soft rattling from the front of the house, followed by the sound of a car door being slammed shut.

"He's here… Antonio, what do we do?" Francis asked nervously. The Spaniard took his friend by the hand, and rushed quickly down the hall. He came to a small closet, and pushed the Frenchman inside.

"Just stay here, let me get Lovino." Francis nodded quickly, his throat going dry, and his palms growing sweaty.

"Leaving? Lovino, where would we go? We can't leave! Papa, would be furious!" Feliciano cried, his fingers digging into the back of Lovino's shirt.

Lovino cupped his brother's cheeks. He looked him in the eye, his brows knitted together. "Trust me. Just this once. I-I came with Antonio and this man, named Francis…. They're going to get us away from here."

Feliciano opened his mouth to reply, but did not get the chance to breathed a word when Antonio came bursting through the door, taking Lovino by the arm.

"Hurry, we have to hide you. Your father is here!"

Fear flashed through Lovino's eyes, and his body started to tremble. His father would kill him. He would kill him after he had run away, and kill him for trying to take Feliciano away.

"Come on!" Antonio pulled him away and out of the room. Lovino barely responded, mind and body frozen in a state of fear. The Spaniard had to drag him along, until finally sense rose back to the Italian's thoughts all at once.

"Where's Francis? Where is he?"

"In here…" Antonio replied, opening the same closet door from before. "And you need to get in here too." He pushed Lovino inside, not listening to any of the words that he spoke, and shut the door firmly behind him. Once, the two were secured and hidden. He ran back to Feliciano's room, closing the door and locked it after giving the boy a reassuring nod that they would get them out of this place.

Back in the closet, Francis and Lovino stood chest to chest, so close that Lovino could feel Francis' warm breath on his skin. Neither of them moved, or said a word in fear of being caught.

Few moments later, the front door creaked open, and heavy footsteps trudged across the floor.

"Antonio? What are you doing here?"

"Ah, perdon senõr, I was simply coming to check on you and Feliciano. Do you guys need anything?"

"How did you get in here?"

"You left the door unlocked, Señor Vargas."

The older man, hair graying at the edges with age, stared down at him with hardened suspicious eyes. He had wrinkles on his face, and his skin was slightly more tanned than his sons from mostly working out in the sun. He was tall, with large hands that matched his toned arms. Back when he was younger and happier, he was probably very handsome with a charming smile, for there were remnants of it hidden in his features.

"You of all people know that I don't leave doors unlocked in my household."

"Well…" Antonio chuckled nervously, "It must have slipped your mind…"

Lovino felt sick hearing his father's deep voice, the calm yet threatening tone. He wrapped his arms around Francis waist, burying his face into the other's chest. He wanted to block it all out. He wanted to leave. He had not wanted to come back in the first place. Doing the best he could, he was trying not to cry.

Feeling Lovino tremble in his arms, Francis gently rubbed his back in circles, trying his best to quietly soothe his nerves and fears.

"Feliciano better still be in his room." The elder Italian grumbled after much reassuring from Antonio.

"Of course he is! I just got here!"

The man glanced back at Antonio skeptically, walking towards Feliciano's room. He opened the door to the room, and motioned for Feliciano to come out. The boy complied, following orders like a terrified puppy. He looked up at his father, fighting to put on his old, bright, cheery smile.

"Ciao Papa…"

The man nodded, a soft smile appearing on his face as he looked down at his favorite and adoring son. "Feliciano, did you know Antonio was here?"

Shaking his head, Feliciano played nervously with his fingers. "N-No…"

"Are you telling me the truth?" He asked, tilting his head up to look directly into his eyes.

Feliciano shifted between feet. It was nearly impossible to lie to his father. He was intimidating, and made you feel guilty for betraying him as he so would put it. The young teenager could barely look at his father knowing what he knew, knowing that his brother was just down the hall.

"I…." He looked away, and words suddenly flew from his lips. "Lovino is here!" He cried.

Lovino cringed at the mention of his name, his stomach churning as he innerly vowed to kill his little brother himself.

"That's my boy…" Their father smiled, leaning down to kiss Feliciano's forehead. He turned out of the room, and glowered down at Antonio. "I knew you were lying to me. I should have known Lovino would have run to you like the pathetic piece of shit he is. Now tell me where he's hiding."

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I apologize for my lack of updating. Hopefully I can be more regular, we shall see. I was in a bit of a writer's block.

Hopefully this flowed alright, critiques would be nice, as well as reviews of love and adoration. Hehe.

Thank you for reading.


	10. Sins of Our Father

**Broken Slowly and Bleeding Red**

**Chapter 10: Sins of Our Father**

After not writing this story for a little over two months, I think I have the motivation to finish it. I'm going to try to finish this one up, as well as Warm the Heart if you've been reading that one. Personally, how I see all these characters have changed since I started these stories, which is part of the reason why I've been dragging my ass. However, I know how much it sucks not to see a story you've been reading continued, so I will persevere on. I believe there will only be one or two more chapters after this, for the story is coming to a close. Let's be honest, this chapter is the climax, so really there should only be one more chapter if even that, but we shall see. Thank you for following my stories for so long. I love all you precious babies, and the fact that you guys are reading my framano story with it being such an unappreciated pairing makes my heart SWELL.

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Antonio stared up at the intimidating man who had cornered him against a wall. The man was obviously furious, and determined to believe that Lovino's disappearance was his fault. With every step Lovino's father made towards the young Spaniard, the floor creaked menacingly making even Francis shiver from his place in the closet.

"I should have known it was you who took him away from me. You two...were always much too close." He snarled, lashing out at Antonio. Grabbing him roughly by the shirt, he shoved him against the wall. The brutal treatment earned a yelp from the young man, Antonio knitting his brows together in pain. "Now where is that ungrateful little brat?"

With no answer, Francis and Lovino could both hear a struggle begin just down the hall. Francis knew something would have to be done. His friend would not be able to defend himself against the man alone. It had been his idea to come in the first place.

"I swear to you sir, I did not take Lovino away from you!" Antonio gasped finding himself now on the floor, and heavy hands wrapped threateningly around his neck. He struggled and protested, but the Italian would have none of it, not believing a word he said.

Feliciano peeked out the door, trembling as fear took his body. He didn't want his dad to hurt anyone, especially not Antonio. He had always been so nice to his family. "Papa please, y-you're hurting him!"

"He hurt our family by taking Lovino away!" He growled.

Francis no longer felt he could sit back any longer. He could only go by what he was hearing, but what he heard didn't sound good at all. "Lovino listen to me." He whispered, urgency laced in his voice as he placed his hands on the Lovino's shoulder. He tilted his chin up, trying to look at him despite the darkness masking their faces. "I'm going to help Antonio. I don't want you to come out of here. No matter what. You have to stay in here until I come get you out."

Lovino's eyes widened. He could not let his father know about Francis, or worse hurt him. Gripping tightly to Francis shirt, he shook his head. "No. Francis no, you can't. I won't let you, he'll hurt you."

"I have to help Antonio."

"Francis, you don't fucking understand!" He hissed, trying to keep his voice low. "My father…" His emotions were swirling, and he was somewhere in between a state of nausea and a state of determination. He cupped the other's cheek, his own sense urgency rising in his bones. "He doesn't like to share."

Francis placed a hand over the other's, and for a moment his heart fluttered as if there was nothing else wrong. But reality set back in immediately. There was no time for the fluttering of hearts, or confessions. With a gentle kiss to the other's lips he pressed his hand to the other's chest, and uttered a simple command. "Stay."

Despite the protests that came from Lovino's mouth, Francis stepped out of the closet. He made sure to close the quietly so as not to alert the man of where his son was hiding. Careful steps were made down the hall before Francis alerted the man of his presence.

"Antonio had nothing to with your son disappearing…"

Choking for air, Antonio turned his head towards Francis. "Francis…what are you—"

The older Vargas stood up after releasing his hands from around Antonio's throat. "Who the hell are you? And how did you get into my home?" He glared down at Antonio, and kicked him in the side, earning a loud groan from the Spaniard. "He came with you here didn't he?"

"I came here to save your other son, just like I helped Lovino so they won't have to deal with a man as horrid as you."

The man growled, rushing forward and lashing out at Francis. His fingers curled into a tight fist, and punched directly across Francis cheek, knocking him back. It was only the first. Francis was given no time to recuperate, and while not weak, he had never been much of a fighter. He was slammed against the wall, then pushed onto the floor where he was pummeled again and again by fists fueled by fury. The other man was so much stronger than Francis was, and the determination Francis felt slowly slipped into fear as he did his best to protect himself from the onslaught.

Back in the safety of the small closet, Lovino shook with his own fear. He closed his eyes, fingers pressed against the door, begging himself to stop being a coward and to help Francis. Francis' command to stay put would no longer be valid if he was dead. "Gesú Cristo, per favore…." He muttered in a hushed tone, hoping that maybe just this once God would open his eyes, and see that Lovino needed his help. "…mi dia la forza."

It was when the house fell almost completely silent that Lovino knew he couldn't stay anymore, save for the soft moans of pain that could be heard from the Frenchman. Somehow, Lovino mustered up enough courage from somewhere deep inside him to walk out. A place mixed with anger, sadness, and a love for the man who had taken him in from the cold.

With shaking fingers, he pushed open the door, cringing at the soft creak from the hinges. He took a single step out, and glanced at his father. His face seemed to have age since the short time Lovino had been gone. The lines under his eyes had sunken, and there was grey sprinkled in his 's eyes then drifted to Francis and next Antonio, a sudden tightness filling his chest.

His father looked up at the creaking sound of the door hinges, his eyes locking with Lovino. "You…" He hissed rising to his feet. Francis reached out, and tried to tug at his pants hem to keep him from walking over towards Lovino, but the man simply yanked his leg away.

"Lovino I told you to stay put…."

Lovino glanced down at Francis again and then back towards his father, nervously taking a step back as he approached. "I-Idiot, and let you get hurt because of me? No." His body violently shook as his father drew closer, and his breath almost stopped once his father was bearing down at him with hard eyes. Fingers brushed across his cheek, and then tightly cupped his chin forcing him to keep their gaze.

"I'm so disappointed Lovino." His father said, voice lowering near a whisper. "I missed you. Feliciano missed you. He'd cry for you, you know. How could you do such a thing to him? To me?"

Flinching at his father's ministrations, Lovino felt sick to his stomach. He hated his touches, this man who he was supposed to call father. He hated his voice, his hands, and everything about him. That hate rose up to a fore, and he shoved him forcefully at his chest.

"Y-You know exactly why."

His father eyes widened in shocked disbelief. "Lovino…"

Lovino cowered, closing his eyes tightly. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" He said, backing up against the wall in fear of retaliation. He had been trained over the years to keep his place, and no matter how much hate he had him in him, it wasn't enough to break that training.

From the place on the floor, Francis fought to sit up, pain stabbing all over his body over and over again. He couldn't bear to simply watch Lovino this way. He shouldn't have been apologizing.

"Selfish, stupid child." The elder Italian grabbed Lovino by a fistful of hair, and tugged his head back. "All these years, all I've given to you was my love. And yet always, you've tried to push it away! Why are you so ungrateful?" He yelled, raising his hand to smack his hand across Lovino's face. Lovino flinched, turning his head as he prepared himself for the blow.

"You didn't love me. You hurt me, that wasn't love, a-and it never was."

As the words fell from his lips, there was a loud bang that made even Francis flinch. His father lurched forward, and the raised hand fell to his side. Lovino looked down and saw blood at his father's chest. His eyes widened, and he looked back up into his father's eyes, dark brown and filled with shock. The man grabbed at his chest, and brought his hand up to his eyes, seeing it stained with his own warm blood.

"Papa?" Lovino whispered. His father crumbled, relying on Lovino's hold as he was laid gently on the ground. For a long second, Lovino stared down at his father, kneeling beside him. He was still shocked as he reached for the bloody hand. "Papa…?"

Lovino looked up, and his eyes locked with his baby brother's. There was gun in those shaking hands, and there were tears on his scared face. Feliciano had let his brother hurt for so long, ignoring it because at least it meant his own salvation. But it wasn't like that anymore, he had learned better, and while the fear was there, his thoughts had become nothing when his heart yearned to protect his big brother as he had done all these years. Trembling, Feliciano let the gun fall from his hands, and it hit the ground with loud clunk, just as their father took his last breath.

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Thank you for reading. I'll try to get the next chapter up faster. Reviews as always are appreciated.

Also sorry if this was extremely cheesy, and unoriginal. It had to happen. Shhhh


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